Dew
by NitnatRide
Summary: Read 1st AN. Jon/OC. Jon's soon leaving for the Wall and the accompanying oaths. Long-term best friend Ashelina wants to go with him, for a better life of her own. Of course, that would be a lot simpler if their feelings for the other hadn't surfaced. Will Ash remain undiscovered at the Wall? Will either be able to keep their oaths?


**Hello, all faithful and first-time readers! So, this is the first chapter of my attempt at a **_**Game of Thrones**_** fanfic. The way I've imagined this is a little weird, so I'll explain. I'm not basing the plot order or the character appearances/ages exclusively on either the books or the TV series; it's a mix of the two. As this is a romance between Jon and my OC, I'd find it weird to write the kind of romance you're expecting from **_**Game of Thrones**_** directed at a fourteen-year-old. So the 'children' in this fanfic are the same age as they are in the TV series. But the plot and actual character appearances will (hopefully) follow the books. If you don't agree with that, don't bother reading this; choose something that you would actually like :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**

**Chapter 1: Decisions**

**Jon**

"I hear that you are taking the black, my friend."

The voice startled Jon, sat atop a wall overlooking the forest, previously alone and lost in his musings about the very subject that was just mentioned.

Ghost had apparently been more alert to his surroundings than his master, as he did not jump up to defend Jon from the sudden appearance, but merely turned his head lazily to regard the newcomer. Jon raised an eyebrow at the wolf, silently questioning why he had not warned him of her approach, but Ghost simply looked away, twitching his ear at him. Jon knew that Ghost was far too intelligent to not understand.

_Traitorous little pup,_ he thought.

He said nothing anyway as the young woman – only a few months his junior – lifted herself up easily to sit beside him, smiling gleefully.

"The gods know that nothing could call anyone further north than the glory and honour of the Night's Watch. 'Winter is coming!'" she added, mocking the solemnity of the Stark words by deepening her voice to a ridiculous pitch before continuing in her own.

"And you will suffer within it even more than you do in the great northern fort Winterfell. The dark hours and the dark attire beckon you, Lord Snow! Away to the Wall!"

Jon rolled his eyes at Ashelina's chuckling, opting to ignore the 'Lord' for now. Despite his annoyance at her teasing, he turned to her as she finished laughing.

"You are happy for me, then."

Her smile remained but morphed with the rest of her face into an expression of unbearable sincerity. "Truly."

Her natural light and happiness made it impossible for him not to smile gently back.

Both turned back to the forest laid before them, while Ashelina idly but fondly stroked Ghost, who lay in contentment between them. She was the only one outside of the Starks who could even approach Ghost without Jon's aid and instruction. The wolf seemed to trust and tolerate her unconditionally, favouring her above all other strangers. Jon was still trying to understand the wolf's thinking. It was not that he disagreed with the conclusion, but he had known Ashelina since they were still clinging to their wet nurses, and so had had years to assess her character. Ghost had taken to her by their third encounter.

But more serious thoughts were occupying Jon's head now. Not a few days ago, it had seemed as if he would never gain the honour of wearing the black garb, his uncle insisting that he would count the losses from the life he had at the moment. Now suddenly his father had almost commanded that his wish be granted. In less than a month, he would be leaving for the Wall. And yet Jon was uneasy about it.

He voiced his musings to the one person he felt able to do so.

"I've dreamt of the Wall and of becoming one of the Night's Watch for as long as I can remember. I've dreamt of gaining honour and glory in what is likely to be the only way a bastard can. Now my dream is becoming a reality. So why am I not happy?"

Ashelina shrugged. "You are leaving the only home you have ever known to go somewhere to which you will forever be dutifully bound. You'll be leaving your family. It's only natural that you would feel nervous and unhappy," she said, her voice so characteristically gentle, understanding and reassuring that he felt his heart glow in his chest like embers in a fireplace.

"You are mourning a life that is disappearing before your eyes," she continued. "Everything will be unfamiliar, and yet you must swear oaths to them. But you will not be alone," she added, an odd tension in her tone behind the consolidation.

Jon continued to stare at the godswood, but half-smiled. "I know; Uncle Benjen will be there to protect and educate me."

A pause, then a slightly strained "yes".

Jon frowned and turned to her. She glanced at him before flicking her eyes away again nervously, fidgeting under his gaze. He had long since learned to read the emotions in her eyes, and that second was all he needed.

"What are you keeping from me?" he demanded warily. He knew it was something important, and so was curious, but at the same time he was just as agitated as she was; what could possible make her so anxious around him?

She shrank further into herself, seeming to want to hide, which stung Jon slightly; there always seemed to be a silent promise of honesty and openness between them, simply because the ability was not present or appropriate with others around them. This was something she was even struggling to tell Jon.

"Jon," she muttered, glancing around them almost fitfully. "There won't be just Benjen who could take care of you and keep you company at the Wall."

His frown deepened. "You know someone at the Wall?"

This was highly unlikely; with his father being the lord of Winterfell, Jon had met many people in the town, and yet even then Uncle Benjen was the only man he'd even heard of who as in the Night's Watch. What's more, that knowledge she hardly upset Ashelina like this.

She sighed heavily and fast, almost a huff, her frustration evident even in that sound.

"Apart from Benjen, no," she replied, seeming even more agitated than before. She sighed again, carefully and thoroughly checking _**all**_ around them – on the walls, through the windows, below this walkway – before shuffling closer. Jon tensed in anticipation as Ashelina suddenly stared intently into his eyes, all seriousness.

"Jon," she began in nothing but a whisper, "I'm coming with you."

Jon's breath froze in his throat before sinking to lodge as a block of ice in his chest. Whether the wolf understood her words and their implication or was merely responding to his master's shock, Ghost lifted his head to stare at Ashelina. Even the godswood seemed to drop into silence.

"What are you, _**mad**_?" Jon gasped, his breath robbed from him as if his uncle had kicked him full-force in the gut.

He stuttered some more in shock before blurting out incredulously, "How? How can you possible think that that would be feasible?"

"I will disguise myself, obviously," she said. "If I cut my hair and dress in armour and other male garb, I could resemble a man. My voice is deep enough that it won't be questioned. Mocked, probably, but not questioned."

It was hard to imagine, this image of a male Ashelina. True enough, if her hair was shorter, it may be convincing. But it would be strange to see her without her bark brown locks waving down to her waist. Her skin had the northern signature hue of pale, but was already without the obvious feminine glow that Sansa and Lady Stark possessed. Her blue-grey eyes, the colour of fresh and untouched ice, contained the sparkle of happiness and humour that could be found in a man or woman. Ashelina also readily dressed for practicality as opposed to image; her current attire was plain, worn and stained, her boots alike. The only femininity in her clothes was the fact that it was the shape and design of a dress.

But Jon was far from convinced as he stared at her in disbelief; that was only one of his concerns. "What if you're caught? And what of your name? 'Ashelina' is not very masculine," he said sarcastically. "And what if someone catches you bleeding?"

"You know I usually go by 'Ash'," she snapped crossly, upset that he was not supporting her. "I thought you knew me better than to think me careless enough to jeopardise myself. And you leave the business of my bleeding to me, Jon Snow."

Jon turned away from her suddenly amused face, resisting his body's urge to blush. He hadn't forgotten his fight, but Ashelina spoke again before he could.

"Anyway, from what we've heard from Benjen, most of the men there are honourable and good. Even if I was caught, they would not kill me, or…."

She looked to the forest, her eyes wide and muscles tense. "…other things."

Jon knew to what she was referring. He had heard dishonourable men – if you could call them that – discussing and laughing, even boasting of it, of taking unwilling women. He had fumed at them and their words before, but now, seeing Ashelina's fear, he wanted to kill every single one of them.

"But," she continued after shaking her head slightly, "I shan't be discovered. You've fought me before, Jon; you know that my strength comes not from brawn – seeing as I am not male – but from stealth, swiftness, agility and strategy. Do I not possess the skills worthy of the Night's Watch?"

Jon merely sighed, unable to give the negative but still unwilling to give the positive.

Ashelina sighed, too, wearied by Jon's reluctance. "Jon, you're not the only one searching for a new and better life."

That made him look at her. Ashelina, always so bright, cheerful and optimistic, was admitting weakness.

She fixed her eyes on her hands in her lap. "You know my origins. Abandoned in the Winterfell godswood as a babe, there is a possibility that I am a bastard, too. I like to think that I am not, which is why I refuse the name of Snow and go by Dew instead. But there is no future for me here. I know what is whispered about me. I also know that while such rumours exist…I will most likely never become a wife and mother."

Jon knew all that, of course, he did. But to hear it said, by her no less…. He recalled all the times she had interacted with his younger half-siblings; how she had cared for little Rickon for a day when Lady Stark and anyone else had had other duties for the day; how tender and affectionately she always treated Bran; how good-humoured and supportive she was of Arya, probably because of their similarities; how kind she was with Sansa because their hearts were alike even if their pastime preferences were not. To witness all that and then face the reality that she would never receive the love she deserved from a husband or care for one of her own children…. Jon's heart wept for her.

"And so there is nothing to keep me here," she continued sadly. "I would much prefer to live a life of celibacy where my talents are used and appreciated than to not. Even if there is a chance of that life being shorter than one here.

"The Stark words are 'Winter is coming.' I here even you use them, because that is not only the words you have been taught but the mindset you have been brought up to possess. If my family had words that would describe my mindset, they would be 'Spring is coming.' I am an optimist, Jon, as I am sure you have noticed. I need hope with me, always. And there is very little hope for me here.

"Also," she frowned at her hands, speaking even more quietly. "I don't want to be alone." She found his eyes. "I don't want to make you feel guilty by asking this. But did you think of me, Jon? In your dreams of you wearing black, did you consider where I would be or if I would be as content as you?"

Jon blinked, caught off guard. He only needed to briefly sift through memories before he lowered his gaze, shaking his head in response and disgust and scowling at his selfishness despite his friend's earlier words.

"You are my only friend, Jon. The only person who understands and accepts me completely for who I am. If you go, I have nothing left here."

"Your family love you," Jon argued with a hint of jealousy. "Even though you are not theirs, they treat you and love you like their own daughter."

Ashelina shook her head. "I'm in the same dilemma that Arya is in; where the mother and father love the child and want them to be happy, but want that happiness to be within the restrictions of societal expectation. I can only find the happiness they wish for me at the Wall as one of the Night's Watch, away from their restrictions. I love them and will miss them, but I need to do this. I beg you to let me come with you, Lord Snow."

That title again. She had been using it for years, often to tease him. He had confronted her about it almost as many times. Yet just before he did so now, he had an epiphany for some unknown reason. He stared at her, as if really seeing her for the first time.

"You don't use that title simply for maliciously mocking me for my bastard status, do you?" he asked quietly.

Ashelina blinked in shock, recoiling slightly as if stung. "_**That's**_ what you always thought? In that case I both apologise profusely and scold you for, yet again, thinking so low of me and my intentions." She looked down. "Your father is Lord Stark, is he not?"

Of course, she knew this, but Jon decided to humour her. "He is."

She lifted her eyes to the godswood. "You are the son of a lord. A bastard, yes, but still his son. I very much doubt that, if either one of my parents had status, _**both**_ of them would leave their babe in the forest to die. My parents most likely had no title, and so I claim none for myself. That means that you, Jon, are my superior."

This was such a new and radical – and completely _**logical**_ – way of thinking about Jon that the young man in question simply gazed at the godswood, unseeing. Then he frowned unhappily, turning back to Ashelina and waiting until she met his eyes.

"I don't like that," he said, and her mouth fell open slightly. "We are equal, as we always have been from the start."

She beamed at him gratefully, and he smiled back.

He returned to the more important topic, his smile dropping. "How will you stop your family from searching for you after your disappearance?"

Ashelina sighed and pushed herself off the wall to stand. She put her hands behind her back, standing straighter and taller, looking respectful.

"My Lord Snow," she said, not looking at him, her voice deeper, not her own. "Miss Dew wishes to go riding alone in the godswood on the eve of your departure for the Wall. These woods can be dangerous. I fear for her safety, that she may not return."

It didn't take long for Jon to realise that she was pretending to be a messenger boy. It took him even less time to understand exactly what she intended to do. What he comprehended a few moments later was that this was a second request for Jon's support, and a farewell of sorts.

Jon looked up at this young woman standing beside him. Despite her continued messenger act, her averted eyes still betrayed her need for him to accept this decision. Her throat bobbed once as she swallowed nervously, and her arms shook as her muscles trembled in anxiety.

He smiled sadly. "_**Lady**_ Dew has a sharp enough mind to assess the danger of the situation herself. She also has a will of iron when she has set herself a task and a goal. There would be, and is, no stopping her, and I wish her a pleasant ride in the godswood."

Her whole body sunk slightly as the tension left in an almost visible aura, and her brightness returned in her radiant smile. She launched herself at Jon, wrapping her arms around his neck. He recoiled slightly from being pushed back by her force and chuckled at her enthusiasm as he returned her hug. The truth that his best – _**only**_ – friend was accompanying him to the Wall still slowly sunk into him, and when it finally took root, he tightened his arms around her, pressing his face further into her shoulder. Those losses his uncle spoke of seemed even fewer in number now.

"Um, Jon?" Ashelina whispered.

"Mmm?" he responded lazily.

"You're bruising my ribs."

Jon's eyes opened – when had they closed? – as he quickly pulled away, resisting the urge to blush for the second time. "I'm sorry."

She only laughed, still keeping her arms around his neck, seeming to refuse to let go. This position, however, kept their faces very close together, and Ashelina's laughter died away as each became very aware of the other's proximity.

Her eyes, so close that flecks of dark blue were visible, sparkled not two finger-lengths away from his. Not for the first time, Jon realised just how beautiful she was, in her own way. She may not have had quite the same physical radiance as Sansa, but many young men watched after her as she passed, as Jon himself had done many times despite his mysterious dislike of others doing so.

But in this moment, and in previous others like it, Jon pitied them for what they were missing, for what he had been seeing all along and what he was seeing right now. In her eyes, her loving, caring, kind and gentle soul was always displayed. To Jon, this was real beauty, because he could easily see the evidence of her truthful acceptance of him and his past, and her simultaneous indifference and outward opposition towards others' views of the same things.

There seemed to currently be some shock, too, in those eyes. Especially when they flicked from his eyes to something lower on his face.

_Did she just look at my lips?_ Jon thought dazedly.

His body translated her actions and this sudden unexplainable euphoria into boldness and an invitation, and he soon found himself staring at her own lips.

_By the gods…._ So plump, and red and slightly chapped by the crisp temperature and wind, but that defined Ashelina; boyish, but still feminine enough to be…_**enticing**_.

Enticing enough for Jon to be unaware that he was leaning in until shortly after he started to. Shocked at himself, he stopped, pausing where he was, unable to pull away.

_She is your best friend,_ his mind folded its arms and scolded him. _Any other relationship between you is impossible anyway, and now you're _**both**___leaving for the Wall and the duties of the Night's Watch. Don't be a fool!_

_Yes, you're going to the Wall,_ another part of his mind interjected,_ which means neither of you will have a chance to feel this again._ It also whispered of the kiss they shared at twelve; a simple agreement to save each other from both the curiosity of a first kiss and the embarrassment of asking someone else to be the one to give it. But Jon remembered how his stomach had started flipping even as she only leaned in, like it was doing now. And that memory was doing a fine job of silencing his sense.

As was when Jon saw that, though he had stopped moving, her face was still creeping closer.

His heart pounding, Jon – _**very**_ – briefly considered his situation. Here was the only woman who had given him a second glance that wasn't filled with scorn, and who was the best Jon had ever met in the first place. Neither of them would ever be able to have a relationship for the rest of their lives. And Jon's feelings for her had become far too loud for him to ignore, and, apparently, the same was true with her.

_Oh, to hell with consequences!_

He recommenced leaning towards her, her hair tickling his cheek in the light breeze, her breath, quick and warm, brushing against his lips, her eyes fluttering gently closed a fraction before his, the heat from her skin glowing against his as they were close enough to almost –.

_**BANG!**_

They sprang apart so violently that they both almost fell backwards off the wall. Children laughed and screeched as they chased each other around a corner in the housing below, where the noise – a door being banged open as the children burst out, probably – had come from. They were out of sight from the children. No one had seen them.

Yet the moment was still lost. Both stared wide-eyed at the other, neither quite believing what had happened. Jon's voice returned first, but jumped out of his throat before he had time to even consider words let alone shape his voice to make them.

"Uh…"

Ashelina's eyes filled with tears as her hands covered her mouth, open in shock.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped out before leaping off the wall and running along the walkway faster than Jon thought possible.

His mind caught up.

"Ash!" he called, following after her but thinking better of it after only three steps; he's made a big enough mess.

He analysed the situation yet again, so similar to before, yet so different. He still had these new feelings for this woman who was still his only friend and the best he would ever meet. What had just happened had most likely changed that friendship, probably for the worse. Any relationship between them was impossible since at least one of them was a bastard. And, in less than a month, they will both have even that slim privilege forever taken away from them.

Running his fingers through his hair and tugging at it in frustration, Jon muttered a word that did not often pass his lips. It was the only one that seemed fitting.

"Fuck."

**So, there it is! It may have moved a bit quick, but that potential kind of awkwardness between them will hopefully run for some time. Now, I have so many fanfics published now, so it's a little hard to prioritise my writing. It helps if I know what my readers most want more of, so if you really want to read more, please just drop me a little review. Two words of "Keep writing" will suffice, trust me. If I don't get many reviews, this one will be pushed to further down the list, and will probably take a lot longer for me to update.**

**Thanks for clicking!**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


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